Chapter 3

Seth got to Micah before Corinne did.

Not to comfort him. He crossed the barn in four long strides, took the boy by the shoulder, and turned him around so hard Micah's boots squeaked on the concrete.

"You're supposed to be in the house," Seth said.

"I heard Mama."

"I said the house."

Corinne stood up slowly and smoothed her vest. The peppermint was gone out of her voice. "Seth."

"I know," he said.

That was all. Two words, and they fit together like a hinge.

I got my knees under me. My wrist was already swelling, and when I touched my elbow my fingers came back red. The organizer was still clamped under my arm.

"Give me that," Corinne said.

"No."

"Give it to me, Josie."

"You want it so bad, take it in front of him." I nodded at Seth. "Take it in front of your grandson."

She didn't. That told me something too.

We went up to the house. Nobody talked on the way. The sleet had turned to cold rain and the dooryard had puddles in the tire ruts. Glen was still in his chair, and he looked up when we came in and said my name, which he hadn't done in two days, and then he looked at Seth and said, "Who're you?"

I got Micah out of his snowsuit. I got his boots off. My hands were shaking so bad the laces kept slipping. Corinne stood by the stove, arms crossed. Seth leaned against the counter with his phone face-down on the tile.

Micah ran to the couch and climbed up on it with the walkie-talkie and put it to his ear and pressed the button again.

"It's not talking," he said, frowning.

"Micah," Seth said, sharp. "Put that down."

"I want it to do the thing."

"Put it down."

Micah pressed it one more time. The static spat. Then, small and clear out of that blue plastic speaker, Corinne's voice said, "...let her fall."

The room stopped.

Seth's face did something I'd never seen it do. It opened. Just for a second. Then it closed again, tighter than before, and he walked over and crouched by the couch and smiled at our son like nothing had happened.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "Let me see that."

"It's my radio."

"I know it is. Let me see the button."

Micah held it out. Seth looked at it for a long time. Too long. He turned it over in his hands and found the little switch on the side and slid it, and the red light went dark.

"Got it," he said, standing. "The battery's low. That's all that was."

He put the walkie-talkie on the top shelf of the hutch, high, where Micah couldn't reach it, and then he walked back to me and stood close.

"Come here," he said, and took my arm above the elbow and steered me into the pantry, behind the door, where Glen couldn't see and Micah couldn't see, and his grip was gentle in a way that made my skin crawl.

"You listen to me," he said. "You've been off since the baby."

"I'm fine."

"You miscounted pills. You're hearing things out of a toy. You came at my mother in the barn."

"I didn't-"

"You're going to see somebody." He said it like he was telling me the weather. "Ma knows a doctor. There's an evaluation. If you fight it, they take Micah out of here tonight, and you can explain the pill counts to a judge from the county."

My mouth had gone dry.

"Where's your phone," he said.

"It's in my coat."

"Give it to me."

"No."

He found it in my apron and took it, and when I tried to take it back he held my wrist-the swollen one-and I saw stars and stopped.

In the kitchen, Corinne was on her phone, and her voice had gone soft and sweet and helpful, the voice she used with the ladies at the church supper.

"Yes, I'd like to report a situation," she said. "It's about an elderly gentleman, and his caregiver. The daughter-in-law. Josie Mae Tilden."

She spelled my name. Then my birthday. Then my son's.

"She's pregnant, yes. And I'm worried about her, frankly."

Seth let go of me.